At some point after my third visit to the bathroom on the morning of May 4, I wondered if it was merely hubris - after running my two best 5Ks within two weeks of each other - that led me to this 10K race. Maybe I had the guts, but did I have the real stuff to get that elusive 10K PR?
Usually, a few healthy digestive evacuations make me feel good on race morning, but this time it just felt like repeated nervous pooping.
On the relatively short drive to Pompton Plains, I could barely get myself psyched up, even after listening to Phish's "Party Time", which had always served me well on race day.
I do not know why I felt like I had so much riding on this. Maybe it was the fact that I had not run a 10K in years or that my 39:19 PR has held for six years, despite repeated attempts to break it.
I arrived at Pequannock High School and felt much better after seeing the well-organized event. There was already a good vibe, with helpful volunteers and a guy with a megaphone broadcasting important information.
The start was across the street and I put myself near the front. I sussed out some of the faster runners and knew to stick behind them. Essentially, it was a big rectangular loop of a course - main road out, cross street over, other main road back, though with two short detours on side streets in the middle.
A 5K was simultaneously running a shorter loop, so for the first half mile it was impossible for me to tell where I was in the pack. Then suddenly everyone in front of me, except for two young guys, turned off.
Wow, third place out of the gate. There was a clock at the first mile and I hit it at 5:48. Too fast!! I set my goal at 6:17 - I was already heading off the rails.
But I could not slow down for fear of slowing too much, and since I did not have a stopwatch with me, I have no idea how I was doing when I saw the Mile 2 sign.
We met up with the 5K racers again and I was weaving my way through a sizable pack. As a very fit, steadily fast guy passed me, I realized I was slowing down a lot.
But where were the Mile 3 and Mile 4 signs? Into an out of the side streets, turning onto the crossroad, I waited for those signs to let me know it was the right time to start pushing.
They never came, but even if they had, there was no push in me. I was conking out from a too-fast first half. I probably ran a great 5K, but there was no replicating it. When a guy who seemed too big to be passing me did just that, I figured I was toast.
But that did not stop me from giving it all I had. I came to race hard and I was determined to leave it all out there on the flat streets of Pompton Plains on that mild May morning.
A Mile 5 sign appeared and I started kicking in everything I possibly could muster for the last mile and change. It hurt, and I wanted it to hurt.
The high school in sight, I summoned all the might I could, not knowing if I was even close to my goal. I thought about how, if my first mile was 5:48, I already had a five-second per mile cushion. Maybe I would shave a few seconds off that damned PR after all, despite slowing down so much in the middle.
Imagine my surprise when I saw a 37 on the clock and I hammered it home. As I crossed the finish line I saw 38:14. The official time they clocked me was 38:18, but I should not quibble over a few seconds when I smashed my PR by more than a minute!
Besides, I was in too much pain. Grunting and moaning as I jogged from the finish to the food tables, I passed a bunch of younger folks and, catching my breath, apologized for making such an enormous racket.
The food spread was excellent - I grabbed a bagel and went back to the finish line to cheer for the rest of the runners as they came through.
Though sizable for a small town race, the Apple Chase is well-run with a flat course (though not completely closed to traffic), great people, and a an excellent opportunity for a PR.
Oh, no apples though. Their logo shows a guy running around an apple tree. I saw no such thing in the suburbia of Pompton Plains, NJ.
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